


The Eliot Spencer Job

by Soquilii9



Category: Leverage
Genre: Chapman - Freeform, Damien - Freeform, Gen, Moreau, Nate - Freeform, Soliloquy, The Italian - Freeform, Yasmin - Freeform, wetwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:24:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot has been freed of his nemesis, Damien Moreau</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eliot Spencer Job

THE ELIOT SPENCER JOB

Based on The Big Bang Job, The San Lorenzo Job and The French Connection Job

_Good to be home_ , Eliot Spencer mused to himself, sipping coffee on his balcony. The view would be exquisite once the sun came up; for now the Cascades appeared as a dark silhouette in the distance. Seated at the small table in his bathrobe, peering through the steam from his cup, he watched the sun slowly peek over the horizon in the east. This hour of the morning was his favorite time of the day. Peaceful. Quiet. A stark contrast to how he made his living.

He sat back and took a deep breath. So… it was done. Another job under his belt. _Their_ belts; the _team_. He was part of a team now. Damn, it felt good. In the aftermath of this particular job he felt even better _. I'll always be grateful to Nate for this. Because of him, the future doesn't look so dark to me anymore._

'Huh,' Eliot chuckled aloud _. Certainly not as dark as that dungeon in San Lorenzo where Damien Moreau is holed up, never to see the light of day again…_

With an almost sadistic grin, Eliot imagined his former nemesis locked away for life; growing filthier each day; not allowed a bath or a shave, not allowed to set one foot outside that dank, dark cell... He could only guess at the diet they allowed him…bread and water? Spoiled rice? Meat with maggots? His nine-hundred-dollar suit would slowly rot and fall off. Maybe he'd get overalls, maybe not. A hard concrete shelf with a thin straw-stuffed mattress to sleep on and a horse blanket for cover. There would be nothing to occupy his mind, aside from chatting with the other bottom-dwellers whose cells lined the walls on either side. He'd scream his lungs out in protest, finally falling silent when his vocal chords seized up on him.

_Good._

As elated as he felt imagining Moreau getting his comeuppance, he realized he shouldn't have gone down that path; it turned his thoughts inward. Damn, sometimes he was his own worst enemy. Any mention of, reference to or memory revived of Damien Moreau brought back to the forefront of his mind that which he'd just as soon forget but couldn't; he'd committed some atrocities even Pol Pot would find difficult to live with.

All at the request of Damien Moreau.

The worst thing he'd done in his entire life…

_Fuck, memory can be a bitch. I bury that shit so deep I think it can never be dredged up again, and here it fucking is, fresh as if it was yesterday._

_That damned Chapman just had to dredge that up during the Big Bang Job. I think he was throwing it in my face. Telling me I'd gone soft. Bastard._ 'I wanted to extinguish the whole family, like we usually do. Moreau said we should wait.' _Saying that to me with that fucking sneer on his face…_

_Fucking bastard. The hard truth is, that's exactly what we did._

_We have the skills Moreau needs and we hire on. Moreau says_ jump _; we say_ how high _. He has us zero in on somebody he has an issue with; somebody in his way; somebody who didn't toe the line with him; hell, somebody that just looked at him wrong and we spring into action…we do wetwork._

_The main target is our assignment. All right. No problem. I'm paid to do it and the bastard probably has it coming. But taking out the entire family…something Chapman really got his teeth into…the wife, the mother, father, the little kids…anybody else who got in our way or knew too much…no matter how old, how young, how they begged; how they pleaded their innocence…it could have been the truth, but we weren't being paid to stop and listen. A gun with a silencer; a knife, our hands…all tools. Some days it seemed as if I could never wash the blood off them._

_Easy to say it was my job. **Was** my job._

_Now… I wonder. If Karma's really a thing, will these jobs I'm doing now with Nate ever put it right. Balance it out. Negate the things I did. Sure wish I knew._

Eliot stared into the sunrise, the piercing rays making his eyes water. He could use that as an excuse for the tears welling, tears he didn't usually allow to appear, not even when he was alone with himself. The stinging of his eyes had nothing to do with the trembling of his chin, however. He capped his internal soliloquy with a final thought.

_All I know is I'm grateful to Nate…fucking grateful to one of the two guys who kept me from falling all the way down. Grateful to him for taking down Moreau. He thought he was working to satisfy that Italian chick…to save Yasmin…hell, to benefit all San Lorenzo._

_Nate's a smart man… but I'd be willing to bet he never realized he'd be taking down Moreau for the benefit of just one person…me. The Eliot Spencer Job._

The End


End file.
